after killing Jason off {LUCY/OPEN}

[ELLIOT BRIDGES]

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[atrb=background,http://img98.imageshack.us/img98/3415/ellliotbackground.jpg] Elliot's Office, New Jersey University Midnight, 8th November, 2008 It had been another one of those nights, which seemed to have been increasing in their frequency over the last few weeks. It was pitch black outside and all was quiet. Elliot stifled a yawn, pulling his face out of the thick book that lay open the desk. Around the book lay stacks of papers, folders and memos, in piles so high that almost blocked the light from his desk lamping from reaching the book. Usually on these late nights, it was reports or papers from his students but tonight it was something different. Something altogether more exciting. Something special. This wasn't his typical sort of work, and was far from his area of expertise, but news had been spreading of this young man's uncanny intellectual ability and his ability to research almost anything. Many independent research groups and proprietors came to him, seeking private and exclusive research. More often than not, he was happy to oblige, always willing to learn something new (and the money wasn't to be sniffed at either). A few weeks ago, an archaeologist had came to him. Now typically, Elliot didn't believe in the supernatural and mythical items and the thought of it actually existing wasn't what drew him to the case but the chance to delve into the world of ancient Greek texts was hard to pass up. The man had came to him, seeking the Golden Fleece, the subject of the famous quest undertaken by Jason and his Argonauts. The research had been particularly exciting, the chance to delve deep into ancient mythology. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect to him something. In old, dusty books, long hidden away in the basement of the museum in New York, he had found what the man who hired him had obviously been looking for. The papers detailed, after weeks of painstaking deciphering, a shield, that the young professor had interpreted to be the golden fleece. The writings explained that the shield could withstand even the most powerful - referenced to have withstood a strike from the Hammer of Thor itself. The papers gave clues (and by clues I mean highly cryptic information, hidden in the smallest symbols - not something just anyone could read) to the location of the fleece, if it actually existed. Myths spoke of the fleece reaching the ancient city of Colchis. It was widely regarded that Colchis stood in the same location as modern day Georgia, on the easternmost shore of the Black Sea in Europe. But through his readings, Elliot had unearthed information that suggested the location of the fleece would be much further west than it had generally been considered. He hypothesised it would lie south of Istanbul in Turkey, on the easternmost shore for the sea of Marmara. It was ground breaking research. No digs had ever been conducted in that area of Istanbul, giving hope to the idea that it could be there. But the excitement of the research had began to overwhelm the young man, and after five days of no sleep, tiredness was rapidly creeping up on him. He ran his fingers through his fluffy brown hair, his free hand reaching for his coffee mug. Bringing it to his lips, he was surprised to find it empty. Placing the cup back on the desk, he took it as a sign to finally retire. He scooped up the papers from the desk, packing them into a rough pile before slipping them into the safe that sat at the bottom of a cupboard just behind and to the left of his desk. There was little point in him going home at this time, only to come back at just after 7am. It was going to be another night on the couch. Elliot shuffled tiredly away from his desk, clicking off the desk light as he went. Only a single light beside the couch kept the room from being in total darkness. Folded neatly on the edge of the couch was a blanket. Tugging off his tie, he let it fall to the ground while at the same time, kicking off his shoes, leaving him in his usual brown trousers and white shirt. It was a relief to finally hit the soft cushions of the couch. He stretched out along the couch. Unfortunately being so tall, his feet dangled off the arm of the couch and escaped the warmth of the blanket he pulled over his body. He nestled his head onto the pillow, exhaustion sweeping over him so quickly that he only just reached over to turn the second light before he was engulfed completely in darkness and sleep. ooc. Hope this is okay for you. This is what his office is meant to look like - sorry for the quality. I'm imaging the golden fleece is like it is in 'The Spirit' movie, that's it's like an impenetrable shield. wordcount. too long x.x 774 tags. Lucy loves <3 muse. 'After killing Jason off, and countless screaming Argonauts' - Birdhouse in your Soul - They Might Be Giants.

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[LUCY BISHOP]

Now normally Lucy kept out of the majority of the comings and goings of the average human, especially when it concerned their views on the mythical world, as they were often wildly inaccurate. Witches as evil harbingers of death and destruction, polluting young minds, casting spells and curses and all such nonsense. Granted, most witches did cast quite a few spells, so the humans at least got one thing right. Statistically it was bound to happen.

So when whispers of some normal, totally non-magical humans having gotten ahold of new information regarding the Golden Fleece of Jason of the Argonauts? Well, unmagical or not, Lucy decided it was worth it to check it out. It wasn’t like it would take her a long time to pop into the home of an archaeologist and then follow the trail to a young professor who had been given the privilege of trying to decipher the scrolls. Hopefully the young man had already finished his translations as Lucy was hoping to just take the translations and not have to deal with the original at all. She very much did not want to visit her own translator. He happened to be a particularly handsy satyr and she could never get a translation or interpretation done without him trying to cop a feel of her ass or ‘accidentally’ brushing her chest. If she could avoid that she’d be completely grateful to the professor, whose work she would be stealing. Unfortunately for him, he’d just have to feel her gratefulness from her flat in London as she admired her fancy new Golden Fleece.

She had planned her foray into the NYU building specifically for after hours, lessening her chances of running into students, janitorial staff, and the professor she was about to steal from. She strolled casually down the hall, having entered from the stairway entrance, a to-go cup containing the most exquisitely made latte. This might prove to be one of her easiest gigs. No shoot-outs, no death defying stunts, she probably wouldn’t even need to make use of the one falcata hilt she carried. Lucy wasn’t even dressed how she normally would be for her more dangerous expeditions, actually about as dressed down as she usually got; Batman t-shirt, jeans, red Chucks, signature utility belt, leather jacket, and of course, her Keyring.

Stopping as she noticed the door she required, belonging to one Elliot Bridges, Language Professor. Poor guy, all that work, and it was just going to get stolen right out from under him. Oh well! Unconcerned and unphased about the crime she was about to commit, she reached for the door, and with the most gentle nudges of magic, the lock turned and the door opened. The office was dark which was fine with her, though she would have some trouble finding the scroll if she didn’t have any light. Thank goodness she’d brought along Watson! Reaching into the inside pocket of her jacket, she pulled out the tiny owl-like Cucuio bird. He blinked sleepily up at her, his look turning grumpy as he was roused from slumber; that bird slept more than he was awake.

“Come now, you ornery little bird, give me little light, won’t you? Not too much now,” she admonished, rubbing a finger over the miniature bird’s head. Watson ruffled his feathers, glowing about as much as a couple lit candles, and she settled him on the lamp on the desk. With enough light to now see, Lucy glanced at wall behind the desk, apparently this guy loved his books. The floor to ceiling bookcases actually reminded her quite a bit of her grandfather who kept his enormous library just as well stocked. Sitting in the chair behind the desk, smiling softly at fond memories, she grinned like the cat the caught the canary when she saw the little safe beneath the cupboard. Dropping to her knees in front of it,
and a quietly spoken, ‘Hello beautiful,’ she lazily drew her fingers across the front, the dial spinning, and with a small click the safe door swung open.

Pulling the papers out, she took a perch on the desk, facing the bookcase behind it she browsed through the pages, dropping them indiscriminately upon the desktop (or floor). She thumbed through a couple of term papers, and because she was feeling a bit punchy, she picked up a red marker, and wrote a large ‘F’ upon an obviously well-written essay, adding a ‘this hurt to read’ below it. Smirking she wrote a large ‘A’ upon a different paper, titled ‘Langege: how PeEpz say wErdz’, adding a ‘truly a work of art’ below that. Feeling that mischief had sufficiently been made, she was delighted to find the elusive scroll below the next paper.

With a quiet exclamation of glee, Lucy spun around on the desk, pulling her legs up beneath her as she was about to peer closer at the papers informing of her of the location of the Golden Fleece when she noticed the gangly, young professor sprawled across the too-short couch.
“Well, this is unfortunate.”
So much for an easy job.